


Diary of a 22 Year Old Highlander

by Honeypop



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeypop/pseuds/Honeypop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting the beautiful and mysterious Mistress Beauchamp, Jamie Fraser excitedly recounts the tale in his diary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4th May 1743

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic was originally posted on my Outlander tumblr blog. I will hopefully carry it on and add further chapters soon!
> 
> I should probably mention Jamie writes his diary entries as though he is talking to his beloved and sadly departed brother, Willie. 
> 
> All characters and rights are Diana Gabaldon's, I am merely borrowing and mean no harm. I know she is anti-fanfic but I hope that now Ron Moore has created a fanfic of his own (of sorts) that she realises it's not so bad really and that creative and positive fan activity can be fun and actually completely harmless to her and her characters!

4th May 1743

I, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, am in love.

So much has happened, I have no idea where to begin. Well, perhaps I should begin by telling you that I was shot, a musket ball straight through the right shoulder. That wouldna have been so bad, ye ken, but I fell off my horse, and as I fell forward, I (stupidly, I know) put my arm out to stop myself falling flat on my face, and being of not my usual strength and shocked at receiving the wound, fell down with my whole weight upon it. I recall a sickening crunching sound, and an intense stab of pain that rendered my whole body rigid. I am sure I blacked out, probably more than once, before I was found by the other men. Anyhow, my shoulder was dislocated, though nothing broken it turns out, but Lord, I was in such agony with it, every breath I took seemed to send tremendous jolts of pain through my body, so as I thought I would faint again at every moment.

But oh, I would suffer that and a hundred times more if only to see.... Well, we will come to that. I am getting ahead of myself. It is the excitement.

We found shelter soon after I was found and dragged to my feet. Rupert did a fine job of shaking me about so much that I was mostly unconscious, I think, most of the time, which was probably for the best, under the circumstances. I was given a place by the fire and enough whiskey to kill a horse, and I sat there holding my arm while everyone decided what to do with me. I was happy to let them argue it out between them, and Dougal was of such dour spirits about it that he was making me feel guilty for being shot and ruining his day. I would have cared more, perhaps, had I not been so preoccupied with my arm. By that time, I dinna mind telling you, I would have been most pleased if they had left me there to die, I was so tired and in such pain. Did I tell you already what pain I was in? TREMENDOUS PAIN, BROTHER. Angus was going to use sheer force to reset it, and I thought I was sure to die. Well, I will stop there with feeling sorry for myself, for the Lord, at that very moment, sent down a true and glorious angel to watch over me.

How to even begin to describe such beauty and grace? I cannot. I wondered, for a brief moment, if I had lost too much blood from my shoulder wound, or was hallucinating, or if I was being taken to heaven and guided there by this creature. For she elbowed the men out of the way and came storming toward me with a face of thunder, as though she were indeed on a mission from God Himself. I soon realised, however, as she gripped my elbow and wrist in her hands, that she meant to tend my shoulder. It may sound odd, to trust a stranger – and Lord, how strange a being she was – thus, but she had such an air of authority and strength about her that I was immediately put at ease by her presence. To say nothing of her warmth and compassion. Her beauty, her charm, her.... I digress.

Within moments she had my shoulder joint back in place, and it was as if nothing had happened, the pain was gone entirely. Such relief! After sitting there for so long wishing I was dead, I was suddenly back to myself again, my head clear and my arm moving almost as usual. My saviour stood over me, arguing – ARGUING – with Dougal about what should or should not be done with me and my wound. It was only then with my mind less clouded with pain that I got a better look at her. 

It seemed that I had not been the only one who had been in a fight that day, for she was scratched and her dress was torn, and her hair was a tangled mess of brown curls, with what might have been the larger portion of a hollybush stuck within it. Somewhere in my mind I recalled something of what was discussed when she entered, while my head was spinning with the pain. I heard the rest of what I could not recall later, from Murtagh. She was lost, after being set upon by thieves while travelling, and had come into contact with a certain Captain Randall. I will write no more on him in here today, for I want to think on only good things. Needless to say, their encounter did not transpire well.

Anyway, back to the Sassenach, for that was what she was, an Englishwoman of some fine speech and breeding. As she bent o'er me to tend to my shoulder, I could not help but notice how certain parts of her were spilling out of her torn and rather thin dress. It must have been her undergarments she was wearing, Lord only knows where her actual dress was, out somewhere in the woods I expect, and it pains me to wonder how she came to be out of it. But out of it she was, and I must tell you, that I was thankful in that moment for being covered in blood and dirt, sweating and already hot from the closeness of the fire, because I flushed red from head to foot. I averted my eyes as much as I was able, to save her own modesty as well as my own. She was much too concerned with me and my injuries to even notice how close to my face her... womanly parts were getting. She ripped off a strip of her skirts to make a bandage, and pressed against the open wound, and I closed my eyes and prayed to God and the Blessed Virgin to give me the strength to keep my eyes shut.

She began to make a sling then, and moved around me, working with sure, quick hands. Within moments she was standing over me, hands on her (full, glorious) hips, and a contented, almost proud smile on her face. She was apparently verra pleased with her work. I was happy to bring any small amount of joy I could to my saviour. Dougal had decided she was to come with us, and ride with me. I was not sure how we would fare riding together, but not completely opposed to this prospect, and so went along with the plan without further questioning.

It wasn't entirely comfortable, trying to ride with one hand on a dark, cold night and a Sassenach lassie sharing your mount, but all in all, it was a verra pleasing ride. I was, I have to admit, ever so slightly drunk, and this, along with the woman between my thighs and the memories of her tending to me, were certainly keeping me warm and in good spirits. Well, as it is you and this is to be read by no other, I will tell you the truth of it. That journey was the best I have ever had. In fact, I would go so far as to say that night was the best of my life. Yes, though I was shot (and later stabbed) and had my arm dislocated, I have to admit that it was worth it. You must think me a fool for saying so, but so it was. 

As I say, it was a cold night, and we were sort of cocooned in my plaid, to keep the heat in, and verra close. Despite her tattered state, she smelled divine, smells I cannot describe but can only say were her own, the smells of Mistress Beauchamp (for that is her name). I think you will laugh at me, brother, if I linger for too long on the intricacies of her scent, so I will leave it there, that she smelt heavenly, and the scent of her hair, which brushed against my cheek the whole journey and felt like a soft, curly, pillow of loveliness, had me so intoxicated that I think it was what sent me to sleep and caused me to fall off my horse. But we will get to that part soon.

Yes, you think me foolish, I know. Not only do I get myself shot and almost break my arm, but now I begin writing about the delicate intricacies of a ladies' scent, and her soft, pillowy curls. Well, you have not seen her. When you see her, you will understand.

Where was I? Oh yes, we were cocooned, and her soft, untamed brown curls were brushing my cheek, and I was smelling her, though taking care not to make it obvious, for she was already undoubtedly feeling scared and unnerved at being in such a strange place with what appeared to be a band of dirty, brawling Highlanders set on ransoming her. The last thing she needed was me sniffing and mishandling her. So of course, being the gentleman I am, I did the best I could to keep her warm and keep us both mounted in the saddle, and though it was not easy, we did the best we could. As I say, I was still feeling the effects of the drink and the pain, so was undoubtedly not in my usual state of mind or behaving in my usual clear-headed manner. For I have to admit, my mind strayed to the sins of the flesh more regularly than it should. 'She has a husband', I kept telling myself, 'she is a kind and virtuous woman. Do not dishonour her with your filthy thoughts'. But oh! The shape of her, the soft yet solid form of her fitting and molding itself so closely to my body. Her clothing so sheer, I flush red now just thinking on it, my ears are burning hot as brands as I write! Her broad arse squeezed tight between my thighs, even now I cannot think on it and not grin from ear to ear!

I am a terrible wicked man for it, I know, brother. She is not marrit though, but widowed, I will state that now only so you may think better of me. I did not know that in that moment, only finding out later, but it makes me feel somehow less guilty for my impure thoughts, though I cannot be entirely innocent of them. She soon relaxed and leaned back against my chest once she was warmed, and we fit as close together as I have ever been with anyone, I think. The close proximity and no doubt the situation as a whole were making me, well, rather more heated than I had been in front of that fire. On more than one occasion, as I squeezed my thighs to encourage the horse along, I had to bring to mind Rupert, and the time I saw him naked, bathing in the stream, and caught him bent over washing himself thoroughly. That image alone was the only thing saving me from a most dishonourable moment which she would feel behind her in a rather obvious and uncomfortable way. The image of Rupert did not save me later, but again, I am moving along too quickly, and will save that for another time.

My hand is burning from writing, and I am tired and feel battered all over still. I hope you will forgive me for keeping you waiting, dearest brother, but I must stop now, and will finish my tale as soon as I can. I may even have more to tell you, for here she remains at Leoch, under the watchful eye of Collum, until it is decided what is best to be done with her. I will, I hope, see my Sassenach again soon.

I will go to sleep with sweet dreams of her and an ache in my heart and belly the like of which I have never felt before. Oh Lord, what a woman!


	2. 6th May 1743

6th May 1743

You may be expecting me to have calmed myself somewhat after my last outpouring, but I have to report that there has been no such change. In fact, I am more enamoured by my mysterious Mistress Beauchamp than ever!

Before I provide you with an account of more recent events, I must finish my story of our first meeting. For yes, there is much still to be told. So, back to my tale. Where was I? Aye, the Sassenach, and the ride back to Leoch. 

We were ambushed by Redcoats, and I got stuck with a bayonet for my troubles, close to where I’d already been shot. Still, it could have been worse, had Mistress Beauchamp not warned us of the possibility of the soldiers being close by. How she knew of their intentions, I know not, but it confuses Dougal and makes him verra suspicious of her. Anyhow, after the fight, I had to find and bring her back. I could not leave her in the woods, knowing Randall might be out there. She was not entirely willing to return with me. Somehow I knew she would be safer doing so, though, rather than being found by the English. She put up quite a fight, but after a little gentle persuasion, I got her to come around. I believe I did the right thing. I hope I did.

We rode on, and I had found myself after a while rather light-headed. I had thought this to be from tiredness as much as anything, though as it turned out I was more injured than I had previously thought. At some point I fell off the horse (yes, I know, it’s as though I was purposefully out to kill myself that night. I wasn’t, I can assure you!) and I came round to find myself at the side of the road, with Mistress Beauchamp astride me, cursing me for getting myself injured again! The language which was coming from her mouth was something I nor any of the other men had heard before from a lassie, brother! Still, I found myself rather amused. I cannot quite say why, but I find her so incredibly entertaining, everything she does has me entirely enthralled! It is because she is so very different, I am sure. You may have noticed, I have taken to calling her Sassenach, and I think it is as much from her unusual manner as it is because of her Englishness. She would be out of place anywhere she was, I would expect.

Anyway, she was astride me, pulling my arm and swabbing and bandaging my shoulder, all the while cursing me for being a fool and getting myself into ridiculous stramashes with Redcoats, and I could only lay there, looking at her, trying to stop myself from smiling like an idiot. Though she must have been as exhausted as I, she was pulling and dragging me around as though she had the energy of 10 men. The strength of her is quite considerable, as is her weight, though she looks slender and graceful (barring her rounder parts which I believe I have previously mentioned and need not expand on here). She is not a woman to be trifled with, I have come to realise, and it endears me to her greatly!

The rest of the ride went mostly without incident. We were both cold and tired and hungry, and I ached all over from head to foot. We made it to Leoch without either of us falling off again though, which I thought a fair achievement. After we had arrived and been greeted by Mrs Fitz, Mistress Beauchamp insisted on tending to my wounds properly herself, though I know that all either of us really wanted to do was fall fast asleep on the spot. But since she insisted, and since I was happy to spend a little more time with her, I went without any further argument, like the gentleman I am.

Mrs Fitz wasted no time in finding us a room with a warm fire and she sat me down and stripped off my shirt, covering me in the quilt from the bed. I sat there, feeling like I was going to fall off my stool at any moment, the warmth of the fire making me especially drowsy. We were the both of us damp, cold and verra tired, but Mistress Beauchamp was not going to rest until I had been tended to. Mrs Fitz brought the cloth and water and herbs she asked for, and left us to it.

As she was tending to my shoulder, the quilt slipped down, and she got a good look at my back. I canna say exactly why, brother, but it did not worry me o'er much, having her examine me so closely. It is strange, the trust that has formed between us in such a short time. Perhaps it was only that I was too tired to care. I feel close to her, like there is some connection between us. It may be because of our eventful journey together, and how kindly she tended to me, when she was obviously finding herself in rather distressing circumstances. I do also think her verra, verra pretty indeed. Well, whatever the reason, I found myself relaxing, once I’d explained how I’d got the scars, and I rambled on, telling her all about the story. It poured out of me, and I told her things I had never spoken about with anyone, about what happened at Lallybroch. She listened intently, all the while tending to my wounds. It was as though there were other wounds she was healing within me, just by listening to me. There were moments when her fingers brushed my skin or my hair, and her touch sent such a warmth through me, as though she were healing me with her fingertips. My skin burns now just thinking of it.

Apologies for the ink blotches, brother. I have just awoken from a daydream, and had not taken notice of the quill. I was remembering her touch and I was imagining myself back in the room with her.

It was likely not the most innocent of situations to find ourselves in, a man and woman practically naked together, alone in close confines. If others had heard of it or seen, I am sure there would have been scandalous gossip flying through the castle within minutes. If there was, I took no heed of it, anyway.

The thing was, I did feel myself so drawn to her, and of course verra attracted to her. There were moments when it was all I could do not to turn around, grab her around the waist and pull her to me, and kiss her for all I was worth! But of course, I would never do such a thing, no matter how sorely I was tempted to. And Lord, I was sore with it! 

She spoke to me of her husband, how she was widowed, and I felt for her, so alone and in need of someone to help her. Without thinking, I held her on my knee and stroked her back as she cried. She was so close, holding onto me tightly, sobbing into my chest. Well, I cannot lie, my body betrayed me, brother. Whether it was the weight of her on my knee, her breasts pressed up against my shoulder, her warm breath against my neck, or the feel of her soft curls beneath my fingers, there was nothing I could do, I could not help it! I wanted her, verra badly. Well, she shot up from my lap, and was verra polite about it, so as I did not feel o'er embarrassed at all. We sat and ate some broth and bread together, quietly, and I left her there to get some rest. I went to the stables and collapsed into the hay, and fell asleep with the feel of her still in my hands.

I canna say exactly what happened there in that room, only that I awoke the next morning with nothing else but her face on my mind, and knowing that my heart now belongs to her, and I will do what I can to protect her, while she is here. Is it ridiculous, to fall in love with a stranger, with someone I cannot hope to ever win, or to love me back? For I do love her, that is the truth of it, the truth of my heart. Though I know it to be foolish, I cannot help it.

Well, brother, I must get back to work. Auld Alick has me working with the ponies and breaking the horses, and there is much to do. It is better not to suffer his wrath. With any luck, the Sassenach will bring me some food again today as she did yesterday. I am perhaps her only friend here, and I would happily spend all day in her company, talking of this and that, probably making myself look an utter wee fool the whole time. I took a beating for a young lassie in Hall the other day, mostly trying to impress Mistress Beauchamp. I do not believe it worked, though I do think she likes me, at least a wee bit. As a friend. I will try to stop doing idiotic things to impress her.


End file.
